


Flower Power

by sidewinder



Series: The Spaces in Between [26]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, but a fluffy one at that, mini-case fic, misadventures in babysitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 19:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12139866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: A quiet morning in the park turns into a case for SVU.





	Flower Power

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThetaSigma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Singing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6833146) by [Nemesis (ThetaSigma)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/Nemesis), [ThetaSigma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/ThetaSigma). 



> This was written for [SVU Characterization Week](http://svucharacterappreciation.tumblr.com) for John Munch, for "Past and Other Characters" week. It was inspired, firstly, by a comment from someone on Tumblr [who thought my Munch icon there should be wearing a flower crown](https://hawkland.tumblr.com/post/165150626128/is-it-odd-that-i-feel-your-icon-needs-a-flower), and conversation that followed with ThetaSigma. There's also a bit of a tip of the hat to her story "Singing", as far as John's musical tastes are concerned.

John hummed a cheerful song as he reveled in this fine Spring morning outdoors. He hummed instead of sang the words he knew by heart, for Caleb—wide awake in his stroller, also taking in the world surrounding him—was far too young yet to understand them.

That, and John didn’t want to get odd looks (or worse) for singing “Poisoning Pigeons in the Park” out loud...while _in_ Fort Tryon Park, of all places. Tom Lehrer’s lyrical genius was not always well-appreciated by those not in on the joke, or lacking a sophisticated taste for satire.

So, he stuck to humming.

He’d volunteered for baby-sitting duties today to help out Ken and Alejandro, for it was as good a reason as any to get out and enjoy the change of seasons. And he wasn’t playing hooky, despite it being a weekday; he’d cut his hours at the DA’s office to only part-time since the boy’s birth last November. The job had been more to keep himself mentally occupied than anything else after retiring from SVU. But after four years as a Special Investigator, dealing with cranky ADAs and the sort of messy police paperwork he used to hand in himself, he found it more important now to spend time fussing over his and Fin’s grandchild. The novelty of being a grandparent brought him new challenges and delights—something which didn’t happen often when you were approaching the end of your seventh decade on this planet.

John followed a turn along the tree-lined path that took him down a gentle slope, where spring flowers presented a cascade of blooms and colors in a garden overlooking the Hudson River. He no longer lived in this neighborhood—hadn’t for years, not since he and Fin had finally found a place they could agree upon sharing—but it was still his favorite park in the city. He liked the dramatic views, the relative peace and quiet, and the Cloisters to visit if he wanted to reflect on some art and history. He looked forward to sharing these things with the young boy as he grew old enough to appreciate them.

“What do you think, Caleb? Good place to sit and take a rest?” After close to an hour of walking, John could use a few minutes off his feet.

The infant had no answer for him, save gurgling noises and flailing arms. “I’ll take that to mean you have no objections.” John steered them toward the benches up ahead that looked out over the garden.

Perhaps because there was still a slight chill in the air, the park was even quieter than he recalled it usually being. Few other parents or nannies were out with strollers and only the occasional joggers rushed past, earbuds in place as they tuned in to their private little worlds.

Maybe that was why no one had noticed the small child sitting on the edge of the flower garden until John did. The girl sang to herself and seemed content and unafraid, contemplating the cascading bells of a grape hyacinth between her fingertips.

It would have made for a picture-perfect scene, save for the fact that the child appeared to be completely alone, with no one nearby watching over her.

 _This can’t be right,_ John knew, his mind instantly switching into detective-mode.

He surveyed the surrounding area with eyes long practiced to observe detail—and risk. He saw nothing. Most worryingly, he saw no sign of a parent or guardian in the area paying any attention to the girl. So he wheeled Caleb over to where she was sitting, bent down on knees that didn’t particularly appreciate the effort, and greeted her with a gentle, “Hi there.”

The girl peered up at him, curious, then responded with a shy, “Hello.” John gauged her to be no more than four or five years old. She wore clean clothes and looked well-cared for, not dirty or malnourished, her dark hair neatly swept back from her face with a colorful headband.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She hesitated. He almost wanted her to say she wasn’t supposed to tell that to or talk to strangers. But instead she said, “Sofie,” and then went back to fussing with the flowers.

“Sofie. That’s a nice name. My name’s Munch.” She gave him a funny look, as he’d hoped she would. He’d learned long ago that kids got a kick out of his last name, and a smile or a little laughter could go a long way in getting a child to open up. “What are you doing out here today, Sofie? Are you with someone? Is your mother or father nearby?”

“Mommy left me here. She told me to stay by the flowers. I like flowers.”

“I like them too. Especially these.” John pointed toward a group of tall red tulips. He looked around again, alert for any trouble, particularly as he had Caleb with him and didn’t want to put either child at risk. He remembered Fin telling him about Liv being in the park with Noah last year, how a boy discovered by himself in a sandbox had pulled a gun on them both. _That_ wasn’t a predicament he cared to stumble onto, so he remained cautious.

But Sofie had no belongings with her that he could see, nowhere she could be hiding an unexpected weapon. “Do you remember how long ago your mommy left you here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I hope he comes soon. I’m hungry.”

“‘He’?” John repeated. “Who’s that?”

“The prince. Mommy said if I stayed here and was a good girl, I might meet him. Then he would take me to his castle and make me his princess. And we’d have a dog and two cats and eat pizza and ice cream every night.”

John smiled. “That sounds really nice. So...what does this prince look like?”

“I don’t know!” Sofie blurted out, impatient and as if he were stupid to ask such a thing. “I haven’t met him yet!” She frowned and focused her large, dark eyes on John’s. “ _You’re_ not the prince, are you?”

“I don’t know, Sofie. Do you think I might be?”

“I think...I think you’re too old to be the prince. And you don’t have a crown.”

“A crown?”

“Like on tv, or in the fairy tales. A prince should wear fancy clothes. And have a big gold crown.”

Well, he didn’t think his present casual attire was _that_ shabby, but she did have a point. “You’re right, Sofie. I don’t have a crown,” John said sadly, spinning a story in his mind to keep the girl’s attention. “I lost it. I was taking a nap earlier, under the trees back there, and the squirrels stole it. Ever since then I’ve been looking all over the park for it with my young friend Caleb here.”

“I’d help you look for it,” she said, “but I’m s’posed to stay here.”

“I understand. What if you helped me make a new one instead?”

Sofie giggled. “How do I do that?”

John’s thoughts went to what was right in front of them. “How about with these flowers? They’re pretty. Not as fancy as gold, to be sure, but I bet they’d make a real nice crown.”

“Hmm...” she contemplated, and then brightly said, “Okay!”

“Why don’t you pick out some flowers that you like the best. Not too many, though, just what you can hold in your hands. Then we can sit on the bench over there and work on it together.” His knees wouldn’t abide this crouching on the ground for much longer.

She nodded and sprung to her feet, excited to have a mission—and permission from an adult to charge into the flowerbed.

He hoped he wouldn’t get busted for vandalism, but he _did_ have his identification from the DA’s office on him. That should get him out of any potential hot water. And if he stayed with Sofie here by the flowers, he could watch if anyone was planning on coming soon to collect her—either her mother, or whomever else was potentially going to take her. John would love to have a word with this so-called “prince”, if he was more than a figment of the child’s imagination.

But in the meantime, while Sofie gathered up her flowers, John sent a fast text to Fin about what was going on. This situation had SVU written all over it and he knew his husband would agree.

* * *

Indeed, Fin wasted no time heading to the park as soon as he received John’s message. Liv had offered to come with, since Rollins and Carisi were busy with a case of their own, but he’d insisted he could handle this solo. He was sergeant now; he could manage a lost or abandoned child without Liv holding his hand. Especially with John on the scene, who would be a lot better than the typical reporting witness when it came to describing what had happened.

Fin knew exactly where John meant when he’d said he was at the flower garden in Fort Tryon Park. They’d walked this path many times on relaxing Sundays past. A number of times on cases, too, which hadn’t been nearly as relaxing. John was no doubt doing a good job of keeping the child calm and entertained until he arrived—at least, Fin figured as much given John’s natural talent for handling kids. And he hadn’t heard back from John since acknowledging Fin’s message that he was on the way.

So yes, Fin expected to find a scene that was well under control. What he _didn’t_ expect was to come upon a scene which left him struggling to contain his laughter—and reaching for his phone to take several photos, even shoot some video, before his husband noticed.

That might not be the most professional conduct for a sergeant, but these _were_ unique circumstances.

For John was seated on a park bench with the girl on one side, Caleb’s stroller on the other. The girl was singing and trying to get John to join her, to teach him the words to the song. At least it wasn’t the other way around, Fin thought, John and those nutty songs of his he’d tried teaching Noah until ’Liv had found out.

But none of that was the remarkable part.

No, that honor was reserved for the crown of flowers encircling John’s head, woven together by what appeared to be dried tall grass and twigs. If Fin had ever seen a more ridiculous sight, he couldn’t think of it—certainly not while caught off-guard like this. The girl had several matching blooms tucked into her headband, and even Caleb’s stroller was now decorated with a small bouquet of daffodils wrapped around the handle.

 _Rollins is gonna scream when I send her this._ Fin chuckled quietly as he saved the video and messaged it to her. Someone needed to retain proof of this moment, in case John caught him filming and immediately demanded Fin delete the pictures.

John eventually turned his attention away from the girl, noticed Fin, and smiled. That set off another wave of laughter from Fin, and the girl asked, “Who’s that? Is he the prince?”

“That’s _my_ prince, Sofie. And now he’s here to help us get you home.”

“Hi, Sofie, I’m Fin,” he said, still grinning. He looked to John and asked, “Who are you now, Cinderella?”

“I always fancied myself more of a Jiminy Cricket.”

“In a flower crown?” 

“Just roll with it.”

“I gotta, to put up with you every day.”

* * *

“You won’t believe how the rest of today went down.” Fin hung up his coat and started to get comfortable, glad to be home from work at last. “And what ended up being the story with Sofie.”

“Oh?” John came out of the kitchen to greet him with a quick kiss hello. He carried a plate of spaghetti and said, “There’s plenty more on the stove if you’re hungry.”

“Yeah, in a few.” Fin followed John into the living room and sat down at the dining table with him. “Took a little while to find out Sofie’s home address and locate her parents—Maria and Chris Delgado. Sofie couldn’t tell us where she lived, but she knew the name of her preschool. We were able to get the information from them.”

“So why wasn’t Sofie _in_ school this morning?”

“See, that’s what started this mess. School was closed for teacher training and staff meetings. That was gonna put a cramp in Maria’s plans for the day. Turns out, she’s been havin’ an affair with this other dude for a while. Guy who works overnight in a bakery in her neighborhood. He comes over to see Maria and get nasty every day after the husband leaves for work and Sofie’s dropped off for school.”

“Getting it on with the baker? He must be quite the stud muffin.” John waggled his eyebrows.

“I’m gonna ignore you just said that. Anyway. Maria somehow got it in her fool head that Sofie would be fine for a couple hours if she left her in the park, since she likes the flowers so much. That way she could keep her ‘play date’ with bakery boy.”

“You’re kidding.”

“C’mon, man, you worked the job how many years? It’s far from the weirdest or stupidest shit we’ve seen.”

“True. But what was up with that whole ‘prince’ story Sofie was telling me?”

“That’s what Maria told her to make her stay in one place instead of wanderin’ around the park. That she had to stay right there if she wanted the prince to find her. So she’d run back to the park after having her morning rendezvous, pick Sofie up, and act like everything was business as usual.”

John let out a sigh. “Well, I suppose that is, at least, less sinister than some of the scenarios I’d been imagining.”

“Yeah.” Fin’s mind had been full of possibilities, too—child trafficking, some kind of fucked-up pedophilia ring...they’d seen and investigated it all before. Pure human stupidity hadn’t been high on his list. “Still, it could have turned a lot uglier if someone else had come across Sofie. Someone other than you.”

“So where is she now?”

“In foster care, for the night and until DCS can investigate the home situation. Sofie’s mother’s under arrest for child endangerment. The father’s already talkin’ divorce and kicking her out, but they want to make sure he can take care of Sofie first, and that there’s no other abuse goin’ on.”

“What a mess.”

“I swear they oughta make people pass a test, get a license before they’re allowed to breed—and yeah, I know, personal freedom and reproductive rights and all that shit. I don’t need the lecture tonight,” Fin warned. John closed his mouth and shrugged, going back to picking at his pasta.

Fin’s phone vibrated, so he pulled it out of his pocket, read the message from Amanda, and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” John asked.

“Rollins says hi.”

“Is that all.”

“And she wants to know if you’ll wear that flower crown for Jesse next time you babysit for her.”

“Of course. You know, I always wanted to be a detective with flowers in my hair.”

Fin shook his head and with teasing affection told him, “Babe, you always were.”


End file.
